


you can keep me

by myloveiamthespeedofsound



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Feels, M/M, Spoilers for everything, With some smut, but mostly a lot of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 13:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9274907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myloveiamthespeedofsound/pseuds/myloveiamthespeedofsound
Summary: You can't choose who you love; you can only choose if loving them is worth the world of pain that comes with it.  And when life doesn't give you much else to choose, that becomes the only choice that matters.AKA a series of vignettes in the road trip from hell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Canon compliant mostly, though kind of canon concurrent really. Kind of an exercise in missing scenes. Spoilers for the whole game. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys!

We keep this love in a photograph  
We made these memories for ourselves  
Where our eyes are never closing  
Hearts are never broken  
_And time's forever frozen still_   


 

Noctis has known for a while he has feelings for Prompto. Feelings that weren't exactly just friendship, feelings he knew he _shouldn't_ have for so many reasons. He was the Crown Prince. He had a duty. And a big part of that duty included his eventual marriage to Luna. Which was _fine._ It really was. Noctis was used to it. Putting aside the things he really wanted, the things he really felt, for the sake of his duty. And it wasn't as though he didn't care about Luna, he did.  He knew his marriage to her would be fine. That he cared for her, that he did _love_ her in a way. Even if his heart longed for something else. _Someone_ else.

Of course all of that was easier to know before they left Insomnia. Before he spent every waking moment with Prompto. Before they were living in each other’s back pocket and personal space became a novelty. Small tents. Small hotel rooms. Small everything and Prompto suddenly feels larger than life - more than he already did. His _feelings_ suddenly feel larger than life.  And it becomes increasingly clear with each rapidly passing day that what he could once discount as a silly little crush was so much _more._   
  
They’re in Hammerhead and Cindy’s putting the finishing touches on the Regalia.  She offered them the caravan to clean up in and they’ve spent the afternoon taking turns in the bathroom.  Noctis doesn’t even think about it as he hops up the stairs and bursts into the caravan.  He’s still covered in dust and there’s a smattering of what he’s pretty sure is dried blood on his arm from the nasties they took down earlier that day.     
  
“Dude, you ever hear of knocking?” Prompto says, all too casually, though there’s a nervous tinge to the laugh that follows that Noctis doesn’t miss.  He rubs a hand across the back of his neck as he looks up to see Prompto near the back of the caravan.  He’s gotten as far as pants and the ever present wristbands, but the rest of his clothes are still laid out over the back of a chair.  His hair is damp and hangs around his face and Noctis finds it hard to even _breathe_ as his eyes wander of their own accord from Prompto's face down the lean muscle of his torso and to the sharp jut of his hips. And it's not like he hasn't seen a half naked man before - Gladio runs around without a shirt ninety percent of the time. But this is _different._ This stirs a tinge of longing, _want,_ that clouds his mind, coils in the pit of his stomach.   
  
Noctis shakes his head and averts his eyes.  “Uh - sorry,” he says quickly and stands awkwardly for a moment as he rubs his hand against the back of his neck again. He can see Prompto tug his shirt on out of his peripheral vision and then leans against the edge of the counter of the small kitchenette. He glances up again and catches Prompto's gaze. There's a moment, and Noctis prays that the warmth he feels in the tips of his ears isn't visible. Prays that Prompto can't somehow know the very inappropriate turn his thoughts have taken.

Prompto, in a move that Noctis is eternally grateful for, turns away and ducks a little to see his reflection in the mirror next to the small washroom. Noctis watches the line of his body, his heel digging into the floor as he sinks his weight back.  Prompto fiddles with his hair as he talks.  “Hey you think Iggy and Gladio would be up for heading back back to where we found Dave?  I'd love to get some more shots of the area.”  There's a small pause and Prompto looks back at Noctis, remembering himself, remembering his place. “I mean if that's cool with you of course,” he adds on.

Noctis nods. “Uh - yeah, sure,” he starts. “That sounds good.”  
  
Prompto grins widely, the one he gets whenever Noctis agrees to one of his plans - which Noctis finds himself almost unfailingly doing, if only to see the way Prompto’s whole demeanor lights up. He's caught Ignis giving him a look at it more than once, and he knows it is probably only a matter of time until his adviser brings up how he bends to Prompto too often.

“Cool, cool,” Prompto says and claps Noctis on the back as he passes him by.  “Thanks, Noct.”

“Anytime,” he answers and watches as Prompto bounces out the door and down the stairs.  The caravan seems suddenly quiet and empty without Prompto filling up the spaces and Noctis lets out a slow breath to try to calm the way his heart beats against his chest in overtime. He feels fidgety suddenly, adrenaline coursing through his blood not unlike when they get in a fight.

He shakes his head. Reminds himself of Luna. His duty. Of the conversation Ignis would no doubtfully have with him at some point over boundaries and inappropriate attachments. He empties his pockets onto the table, checks his phone and then gets ready to shower.

 

* * *

  


The sharp, shooting, drop him to his knees headaches subside in the aftermath of his pact with Titan.  But Noctis still feels… _off._  There’s a dull ache, the one that has been with him for a while now.   And he figures one doesn’t start absorbing the mystic blades of their ancestors without some kind of side effect.  There’s a current that runs just under his skin now that he can _feel_ .  Constantly.  Like he’s suddenly too big for his skin to keep contained, like there’s something in him that needs to get _out_.  And it tugs at him, this small, fleeting thought that maybe this path he’s started down has an ending he won’t want to embrace.  

It's such thoughts he's fallen into as he leans against the rail of their room at the Leville.  It's late but he can't quiet his mind enough to entertain the idea of sleep. His thoughts are a jumbled mess but he ducks his head with a soft chuckle nonetheless as he hears Prompto swear from inside the room. Ignis has long since passed out on one of the beds, Gladiolus across the hall with Iris. But Prompto shares in Noctis’ lack of sleep, sprawled on the bed playing King’s Knight.

“Oh man, I am so sick of dying tonight, let's go do something,” Prompto says as he moves onto the balcony a few minutes later.

“Do what?” Noctis replies dryly, his hands folded together on the rail. His eyes look out over the streets below.  Beside him Prompto leans back against the rail, his arms crossed and his toe tapping against the floor.  Perpetually in motion, Noctis thinks with a small smile.  

“Anything,” Prompto replies with a grin. “Literally anything at this point, dude.”

They find themselves at the only restaurant still open, a plate of fries and a pitcher of beer between them. And maybe they drink it a little too fast under the scrutiny of the owner and his glare at the two dumb kids who came in fifteen minutes to close. So maybe they stumble a little as they leave, maybe the world seems a little… _hazy_ around the edges. Maybe they walk a little too close. Maybe when Prompto insists on a photo in the square they're a little bit more squished into each other than friends should be - their arms looped around each other’s hips, Noctis’ head resting in the crook between Prompto’s chin and shoulder.

And maybe, when they've reached the viewpoint and they stand next to each other - arms pressing against each others and a current of an entirely different kind running under his skin now in the spots where he can feel Prompto’s - it's the most normal Noctis has felt in, well, _ever._  The weight of his life lifted, the weight of his duty.  And there's not much else besides the view and Prompto’s arm against his. The way Prompto feels next to him, the _space_ he takes up, the pitter patter of his heart and the warmth that spreads through his body.  A reprieve.  For a moment at least.

“So, you think you and Lady Lunafreya might still pull off a wedding?” Prompto asks suddenly.

Noctis stiffens and his gaze hardens as he looks out over the landscape. He shrugs. “Eventually I suppose,” he answers. It would be good, for the people. After everything of recent. Even if the ceasefire with the Empire that was struck lay in ruins it would be a show of solidarity, and a cause for celebration in the midst of all the tragedy.

“Don't sound too excited there, Noct,” Prompto teases, but there's a seriousness to it too. An _opening_.  An invitation to lean on him like he had leaned on Noctis on the hotel roof in Longwythe.

Noctis turns to look at him. “I am,” he quickly retorts, but then goes quiet for a moment.  “It’s just - “ he trails off and shakes his head.  He’s not sure how to put it into words.  How to explain the complication that was being betrothed to Luna but having feelings for him.  At least without admitting the last part.    
  
“Come on, you can’t stop halfway,” Prompto urges, using Noctis’ words from the other night against him.  He smiles at Noctis as the other man lifts his eyes.     
  
Noctis shakes his head again with a soft laugh.  “You got me there,” he admits.  He looks back out over the landscape and presses his lips together.  “It’s not what I would have picked for myself,” he says softly after a moment.  It’s the first time he’s admitted it outloud and the words feel foreign on his tongue but there’s a relief in speaking them.  Even if he knows he _shouldn’t_ be saying them.  It was out of place, it was not what the King should do.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Prompto says gently and follows Noctis’ gaze out over the land.  “I never thought it might be something you didn’t… want…” they look at each other for a long moment before Prompto glances away.  “What would you do then?” he asks, changing the subject away from Lunafreya and the marriage.  “If you could do whatever you wanted, no engagement, no kingdom to take back…” he looks to Noctis and smiles a little.  “Anything _you_ want.”   
  
Noctis can’t help the small smile at Prompto’s question.  “Anything?” he repeats and Prompto nods.  Noctis takes a moment to think and then looks back at Prompto.  “This,” he answers.  Prompto’s brow furrows in confusion and Noctis continues.  “What we’ve been doing, driving around in the Regalia, taking hunts, running errands, taking photos for Vyv, chasing after stupid little gem stones for Dino… all of it.”  He pauses.  “With Ignis, Gladio, you…” another small pause and he lifts his eyes back to Prompto, his throat suddenly dry at the confession. “Especially you.”

“Huh - me?  Really?” Prompto asks and Noctis laughs softly at the surprise on his face.    
  
Noctis bumps Prompto’s hip with his and glances down.  “Yeah, you dork, you,” he responds.  He knows he should stop, before he says something he can’t take back.  But he finds his hands uncurling from themselves, and the one closest to Prompto moves to brush against his.  Light.  A move he could claim as an accidental brushing if Prompto pulls away.  But Prompto doesn’t.  Pull away.  So Noctis doesn’t either.  “You make me forget too,” he starts and licks his lips nervously.  “About everything I’m not.  That I’m not… normal.  That I’m not in charge of my own destiny.”  

He pauses and catches Prompto’s gaze.  He thinks it’s the most serious he’s ever seen Prompto, his eyes wide with the same surprise as before, and something _more._  Something that gives Noctis the courage to keep speaking.  To let his fingers move against the side of Prompto’s gloved hand and then over the skin left bare on the tips of his fingers.  He can hear a hitch in Prompto’s breath beside him and he lets his eyes fall to their hands.  Their fingers dance over each other’s, a touch that is over the line of _just friends._  “You make me forget that I’m not allowed to want…” he looks back up at Prompto again, “what I want.”   
  
Their fingers lace together and Prompto’s voice wavers slightly with nerves when he speaks.  “What _do_ you want?” 

Noctis turns into him, pulling their hands from the rail.  His hand that isn’t laced with Prompto’s lifts to slide behind his neck.  The air between them feels charged and drowns out everything else.  For once Noctis doesn’t _think_ , he just _does._  His lips press against Prompto’s - hesitant at first, but Prompto squeezes his hand and it gives Noctis the nerve to deepen the kiss.  Prompto’s hand moves to Noctis’ hip and pushes him back against the rail and Noctis gives a small noise of surprise.  But Prompto’s mouth is against his again quickly, and it’s a feeling Noctis quite decidedly likes, especially as Prompto’s tongue darts into his mouth, runs along his, and the grip on his hip tightens.     
  
They pull apart, breathless, lost to each other and Prompto laughs.  “I’ve.. uh.. I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admits, pulls his hand from Noctis’ and runs his thumb over Noct’s lower lip.     
  
Noctis knows better than to ask why he never acted on it.  Even if they could forget for that moment they were still who they were at the end of the day.  It would have always been out of his place for Prompto to say anything, do anything.  But it’s nice to hear, that he wasn’t the only one who felt more than he should.  That he wasn’t the only one who had wanted this for a while.  He shivers at the feel of Prompto’s thumb on his lip and smiles.  He tugs at Prompto's hand and nods toward where the Regalia is parked.

Prompto laughs and lets Noctis lead him toward the Regalia. They laugh as stumble into the backseat, Noctis leans across and puts the key in so he can close the top. The Regalia is pretty spacious, but it still is a _car._  And it's a bit of maneuvering on both their parts. But neither of them seem to mind.  Their mouths crash together, limbs tangle as hands snake under shirts and press into the skin underneath. Laughs mingle with sighs and moans - both still half drunk on the beer and completely drunk on each other.

Noctis pushes at Prompto's vest and he lets it fall somewhere on the floor.  His fingers curl around the hem of Prompto’s tank top and getting the hint Prompto breaks apart from Noctis to reach a hand behind his neck and tug the garment off. Noctis sits up a little and tugs his own off. They pause for a moment before Noctis slides a hand behind Prompto's neck and drags him down. Skin against skin and it makes Noctis’ head spin. He drags his lips down Prompto's neck and sucks a mark into his collarbone, lost in the feeling of Prompto’s hands tugging at his hair.

There's a hitch in Prompto’s breath as Noctis’ hands move lower, tugging at his belt and undoing it. Prompto whimpers as Noctis slips his hand under the waistband of his jeans and wiggles a bit, trying to give Noctis more room, but somehow manages instead to bang their foreheads together instead. Prompto laughs a little.  “Damn. Sorry, dude,” he breathes out and moans as Noctis’ hand brushes against his length.

“Prompto?” Noctis starts, his lips trailing against the skin of his neck. “Can you please not call me dude when my hand is down your pants,” he requests, though there's a teasing grin at the words.

“Yeah - yeah, sure thing, dude -” Prompto starts and then trails off with a laugh. “Sorry, du- Noct -” he corrects quickly. “I -” he hisses a sharp breath as Noctis’ fingers find their way into his boxers and give a tentative touch to his cock. “I don't really know what I'm doing,” he completes the thought.

“And I do?” Noctis retorts lightly and tilts his head to kiss Prompto as his moves get bolder and he wraps his hand around his cock. But Prompto makes this _noise_ that goes right to Noctis. This little merge of a whine and a whimper and Noctis figures maybe he's doing pretty damn okay. So he keeps going, keeps getting bolder.

“Noct…” he breathes out.  “Just that, Noct, keep doing _that,_ ” he all but whines and grinds his hips against Noctis.

They're at an odd sort of angle to fit in the backseat. Noctis’ back slumping against the door and their legs curling somewhat because they're both too damn tall. Noctis is sure it's probably uncomfortable and they'll probably both have a few knotted muscles in the morning. But it's hard to particularly _care_ right then when Prompto sighs his name. Even more so as Prompto's hand fumbles with the buttons on his pants and he mimicks Noctis’ movements. It's not perfect - except that somehow it _is_ \- and even if the angle is a bit off and they're mostly stumbling through it with no real idea of what the hell they're doing, Prompto's hand is infinitely better than his own simply because it's _Prompto._

Neither of them last that long. Too much pent up want they've spent too long denying. It's kind of a mess, but neither of them care as their breaths come in ragged gasps, lips pressing together when they can, some desperate bid to be as close as absolutely possible.

They're quiet as they come down. Fingers dancing across each other’s chest, the windows more than fogged up and it makes Noctis smile. A smile that turns into a laugh. And both the most genuine he's had in a while. Since before Insomnia fell. Since before they left. Since before his marriage to Luna was announced.

Prompto chuckles. “Wow, Noct,” he starts with a teasing tone, “that bad?”

Noctis drags him down to kiss, their fingers lace together and when they part he rests his forehead against Prompto's. “Not at all,” he assures.

They clean up and put themselves back together again, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Little touches, little looks of _I can't believe we just did that_ a constant as they do so.  And it's a different sort of drunk, a high sort of feeling, as they make their way back to the Leville.

 

* * *

  


They're both pretty slow going in the morning, having come back to the room only a handful of hours before Ignis’ alarm sounds.  Prompto fares better, though Noctis is sure it's only because he _has_ to. Noctis for his part gets as far as dressed before he collapses back on top of the bed. He's hard pressed to get up on a good morning, one with barely any sleep is even worse. Prompto sinks to the edge of the bed, and there's a sort of nervous energy between them as Prompto rests his foot on his knee.

Ignis is restless, eager to get going and he looks to Noctis on the bed. “I'll get the Regalia filled up for the journey, Gladio and Iris are already heading to the station.”  He fixes his gaze on Prompto. “Twenty minutes,” he instructs and Prompto nods as Ignis leaves the room.

It's so quiet they can hear Ignis’ steps as he moves down the hall. Noctis waits until he can't hear then anymore and then sits up. He leans across the space between him and Prompto and leans his chin on his shoulder as his arm wraps around his torso. Prompto smiles and lifts his hand to rest on Noctis’ arm. “Well I guess that answers that,” Prompto says softly.

“Answers what?” Noctis asks and nuzzles his head into Prompto's shoulder.

Prompto turns his head to look down at Noctis. He smiles when Noctis looks up at him. “If you thought last night was a mistake,” Prompto replies softly. Almost hesitantly, as though he still expects Noctis to say had been.

Noctis knows he _should_ tell Prompto just that. Or tell him nothing at all, continue forward as though nothing had happened. They could write the prior night off as simply a moment of weakness. Never to be repeated, never to be thought of again. He doesn't though. He wants to be selfish, for once. He wants to forget all the things he's _supposed_ to do and just do what he wants. He tugs at Prompto as he moves to lay back in the bed, dragging him with him.

“I don't think it was a mistake,” he says, quietly, his fingers tracing across the line of freckles on Prompto’s face. But then a sobering thought hits him, and his stomach sinks as his hand stills. “Do - do _you_?”

Prompto shakes his head.  His hand rests light on Noctis’ hip and the other moves behind his neck and he closes the space between them. His lips slide over Noctis’ and he urges him onto his back, moving over him.  Noctis moves his hands around Prompto's back as his weight presses into him, feeling the lines of taut muscle even under his clothes. He's dizzy, absolutely _dizzy_ , on the taste of Prompto's mouth, the feel of his lips, the way his hands slide up his sides, the _want_ that he has spent so long trying to reconcile.

But reality catches up all too quickly. Noctis’ phone buzzes across the nightstand. He doesn't need to look to know it's Ignis. He groans as Prompto pulls away.  “It's fine, just ignore it,” Noctis says and tugs him back. His phone stops buzzing only for Prompto's to immediately start ringing on the other side of the room.

Prompto gives Noctis a reluctant look and moves off the bed. Noctis moves to sit on the edge as he listens to Prompto's half of the conversation.

“Hey, Iggy.”  A pause and Prompto balances the phone between his ear and shoulder to start collecting his stuff around the room. “Yeah, no we were just leaving,” he assures Ignis. Noctis shakes his head clear and picks up his boots, slides his feet in and starts lacing them up.

Prompto makes a few more affirmative _uh-huh’s_ and then hangs up. He shoulders his bag and looks at Noctis. “Ready to go?”

Noctis nods as he pushes himself off the bed. He moves over to Prompto and steals one last kiss; before they meet up with the others, before they have to go back to pretending, before he _can't_ do it. They smile at each other and Noct grabs his own bag.  “Yeah, let's go.”

Everyone else is already at the station, ready to head out, when Noctis and Prompto make their way there. Gladio puts their bags in the trunk, a bit of a task with everything they already had plus now Iris’ things. But it's not long before everyone is settled into the Regalia and they're leaving Lestallum behind them.

A bit out of the town and Prompto sits up on his knees to lean over his seat. He starts talking to Iris about one of their more colourful hunts. Gladio adds in his own spins to the tale and Noctis is content to let the other two talk.  

Iris is more than enthralled by the tale, happy to be in her brother and his friends company. But her expression turns concerned as she notices a red mark on Prompto. “Oh Prompto, did you get hurt?” she asks.

Prompto raises a brow. “What?”

Iris points a finger towards his neck. “Your neck,” she clarifies, “It looks like something…” she trails off as Gladio, who had leaned forward to look at the spot Iris pointed out, starts snickering beside her. Her mouth forms a small _oh_ as she realizes her mistake. She brings a hand to her mouth as she giggles.

Gladio reaches a hand to try to pull at Prompto's collar for a better look. “Oh man, our boy Prompto getting some action…” he laughs as Prompto swats his hand away.  Prompto sinks back into his seat, his face beet red. “Who's the lucky lady?” Gladio continues with a laugh, missing how Noctis fidgets beside Iris. Gladio raises a brow when Prompto doesn't answer. “Lucky _guy?_ ” he tries again. “Oh come on Prompto, details…” he keeps going with a laugh.

Noctis all but prays for a magitek engine to buzz overhead. Anything to change the conversation. He shifts in his seat, lifts his eyes up to the rear view mirror and catches Ignis looking at him. He averts the gaze. But he can still _feel_ it. A silent judging.

Later, when they stop for the night and Noctis and Prompto manage to sneak away from the group, Noctis is sure to keep his handiwork somewhere less conspicuous.

 

* * *

  


Cape Caem is undoubtedly beautiful, and Noctis thinks it'll be a nice spot for Jared and Iris to spend some time after everything that happened in Lestallum. He's surprised though when Gladio decides to take a leave, though he trusts the man enough to not question it too much. Noctis figures if it's important enough to bid farewell to his sister earlier than needed then it must be a good reason.

That leaves just him, Prompto, and Ignis. And a task to find mythril. They make plans to leave in the morning and settle into the house. Noctis tries to avoid Ignis, and the talk he's fairly certain is imminent. But there's only so many places to go and when he pops into the house Ignis is there, prepping for dinner.

“Ah, Noct,” Ignis starts and glances over at him. “Perhaps you could give me a hand here,” he asks. In a tone that Noctis knows isn't _really_ asking.

Noctis rubs his hand against the back of his neck and moves to join Ignis at the counter. Ignis hands him a knife and nods towards a pile of potatoes. Noctis grabs one and starts to cut it up. He focuses on the task at hand, dreading the conversation he's certain he's about to be be dragged into.

Ignis doesn't strike right away. There's a few minutes of silence, Noctis focusing on his task and Ignis on his. But it's only a few minutes. Ignis sets the meat in the oven and turns to help Noctis cut up the last of the potatoes. “You and Prompto came in rather late the other night,” he starts and doesn't miss him Noctis visibly stiffens.

Noctis doesn't say anything though, and keeps cutting. Ignis sets his own knife down, turns to lean against the edge of the counter and looks at him. “Noct…”

“What?” Noctis snaps, irritated. But he doesn't try to deny anything, there was no point.  It was clear Ignis knew, attempting to deny would only be an insult to the other man's intelligence. 

If the tone bothers Ignis he doesn't show it. He merely takes a moment to push his glasses up and straightens his stance. “You know _what_ , Noctis,” he says firmly.

“I fail to see how this is your business, Ignis,” Noctis states as he puts his knife down and crosses his arms in front of himself.

Ignis does not flinch. “As your adviser, it is very much my business,” he points out. “The terms of your marriage to Lady Lunafreya may be changing with recent events, but have no doubts it will still proceed,” Ignis continues as he moves closer to Noct.  “You are still a betrothed man, Noctis,” he adds. There's a softness to it though, a regret in the tone. He knows the lack of choice Noctis’ status gives him, and he does feel for the younger man.

“I know _,_ ” Noctis snaps. He turns away from Ignis and looks out the window of the small kitchen. Iris, Prompto, and Talcott are in the yard. Iris’ laughter filters in as Prompto lets Talcott tackle him to the ground. Noctis’ fingers grip the edge of the counter.  His head hangs low and he shakes it. “I _know,”_ he says again. Heavy this time with emotion.

Ignis is quiet for a moment, weighing his words before he speaks them. “I know how much you care for Prompto. How much you have _always_ cared for Prompto.” He lays a gentle hand on Noctis’ shoulder. “Do you really want to hurt him?” he asks.

The two men are quiet for a long moment. The sounds of the others laughing outside filling the silence between Ignis and Noctis. After a moment Ignis drops his hand and goes back to preparing dinner. Noctis lets go of his grip on the counter, turns and walks out of the kitchen.  

 

* * *

  


“Oh man what a view,” Prompto says excitedly from their spot at the lighthouse. He's bouncing around, taking shots from different angles and Noctis watches with a wistful sort of look. Prompto turns and points the camera on Noctis. “Smile, Noct,” he says and snaps a picture.

Noctis tries, he really does, but the smile falls short and doesn't do much to touch the troubled look in his eyes. He stands from the box he'd been sitting on and moves to Prompto at the rail. “You wanna go make out?” Prompto asks as he nods back towards the lantern room. There's apprehension in his tone, a desperate attempt to lighten a mood.

Noctis shakes his head and looks out over the sea below. “Prompto…”

Prompto tucks his camera away and lets his head fall as he realizes where the conversation is about to go. “You said it wasn't a mistake,” he says softly, his voice wavering slightly.

Noctis presses his lips together. He doesn't want to do this, but Ignis’ words weigh heavy on his mind. “Maybe it was,” he says tightly. “I mean, come on, Prompto - what are we _doing?_ ” he asks, rhetorically. “This can't go anywhere, this can't _be_ anything -” he trails off and has to take a moment to compose his thoughts. “And I don't want you to get hurt,” he finishes quietly, and lets his gaze lift to Prompto.

Prompto nods, his lips in a tight line before he turns a little and looks over the water again instead of Noctis. “I -” he starts and pauses for a moment. “I was _always_ going to get hurt, Noct,” he admits softly. “Standing there, watching you marry Lady Lunafreya…” he looks back to Noctis, catching him watching him. “It was always going to hurt.”

Noctis holds his gaze, Prompto’s words making that awful feeling in the pit of his stomach that much worse. He realizes then that he wasn't the only one without a choice. “I'm sorry, Prompto,” he says quietly and finds himself drawing closer. His forehead falls to Prompto's chest and he lets out a shaky breath. “I'm so sorry,” he repeats. “I don't know what to do,” he admits.

Prompto's fingers curl around his biceps, sliding in underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. His thumbs rub against Noctis’ skin and he lets out and small sigh. “Who says you have to know what to do?” Prompto points out and shrugs when Noctis looks up. “Look, we got a bit still right?  Until we’ll get to Altissia, we still gotta get the boat up and running…” he shrugs again. “So why do we have to figure anything out right now?  We can figure it out when we get to Altissia.”

Noctis laughs a little at that. “You just _really_ want to make out in a lighthouse don't you?” he teases. But the words make him feel infinitely better, and he lifts his head in time to see Prompto shrug sheepishly.

“Yeah, yeah I kinda do,” he says with a laugh of his own. “But I also want to be with you, while I still can,” he adds, a bit more serious than before.  He holds Noctis’ gaze, makes sure the words are _heard_ before he closes the little gap between them to kiss him.

They stumble back into the lantern room, barely breaking apart.  The back of Noctis’ legs hit a stack of crates and he sinks down onto them. Prompto steps into him, leaning down to kiss him. His fingers curl around the front of Noctis’ shirt as their kiss deepens. Noctis pulls back, breathless and it takes a moment for him to focus. “Wait… wait… Prompto - are you sure about this?” he asks and looks up at him.

Prompto nods. He knows what Noctis is _really_ asking. That the hurt he knew he would have had regardless would only be that much worse, that any step forward they took would soon come to a sudden and undeniable end. “It's worth it,” he says, a hand moving behind Noctis’ neck as he leans down, their lips brushing against each others as he speaks again. “ _You're_ worth it.” 

  



	2. Chapter 2

They don’t figure anything out in Altissia, not even close.  It all happens _so fast_ and Noctis can’t even find a moment to breathe.  Luna was… _gone._  Ignis injured irrecoverably and where once there was comfort in his friends there’s nothing but awkward silence and a heavy tension - or _worse_ when it came to Gladio.  He knows they are looking to him to do something, _say something,_ but he doesn’t know what.  All he knows is everything is falling apart around them.  All he knows is there’s a heavy ache in his bones at what Luna gave up for _him._  And he’s not really sure if he’s worth it all.     
  
The ring weighs heavy in his pocket.  The one she carried, the one that proves him a King.  The one he can’t even bring himself to put on.  He wonders how it all managed to go so terribly _wrong._  Where did it all fall apart.     
  
He lifts his head to look at the passing scenery.  The breeze from the open air car he knows probably feels nice, but he doesn’t feel much of anything right then.  His walk through the train hadn’t done much to clear his head, but he doesn’t want to go back to the car where the others are.  The accusation in Gladio’s eyes, the marring of Ignis’ that he can’t stomach to look at.  His head drops, the sounds of the others on the train a dim of noise that he could honestly do without.   
  
He feels Prompto before the other man can even say anything.  The footfall he’s come to know so well, the feel of him beside him.  “Hey,” Prompto says.  Quiet, barely audible above the noise of the train, the other passengers enjoying the fresh air.     
  
Noctis doesn’t reply.  Prompto’s hand moves, presses against the side of Noctis’ arm.  A tentative touch, barely there but still _there._  Noctis doesn’t want it to feel comforting - but it _does,_ and he shifts his weight, a subtle turn into Prompto beside him.  He knows it’s wrong.  He doesn’t _deserve_ it, not when everything he touches seemed destined to lay in ruin.  

“Noct…” Prompto starts but he hesitates for a moment.  “I’m sorry about Lady Lunafreya,” he says after a pause.    
  
Noctis’ shoulders shake, a tremble that runs down his body and there’s a choked sob of sorts, a low guttural sound that tears through Prompto.  He slides his hand down Noctis’ arm and presses his fingers over his curled fist.  Noctis can feel himself spiral, falling rapidly down the path of it all being _too much._  It’s not just Luna.  It’s _everything._  Everything he’s been trying so damn hard to keep in check and it’s all coming apart at the seams.  And Prompto’s hand on his feels like permission to _let it_ , even if he knows he shouldn’t.     
  
But he does.  His body shakes as the hurt he’s been holding in forces itself forward.  Luna, Ignis, his Dad, his kingdom that lay in ruins.  His _home_ that lay in ruins.  It’s all so much.  More than he asked for, more than he can take.  He wants to go home, but he doesn’t even have that to go back to.  He can’t breathe, he can’t focus, his head spins and his body feels like it’s about to give out.  The ring he carries in his pocket _burns._  The feel of the Royal Arms in his veins, desperate to get out somehow.  Titan, Ramuh, Leviathan, he can _feel_ them in his blood and it feels like his very being is about to come apart at the seams.  Anger, grief, all of it mingles together and it’s more than he can take.   
  
He doesn’t register Prompto’s voice, doesn’t hear the panic in his friend’s tone as his own is pulling him under.  He doesn’t hear the _fear_ as he remains lost in his own mind.  He barely notices the tug on his hand, then his arm, doesn’t clue into all but being _dragged_ into an empty compartment.  All there is is _pain and anger_ until Prompto’s hands are on his face, forcing his head up.  Until Prompto’s mouth is on his.  Desperate, hard, _begging_ for Noctis to come back.     
  
Until there’s nothing but the _feel_ of Prompto, every inch of him pressed up into him, the door of the compartment at his back, and it brings him back from the brink.  Prompto’s fingers are curled tight in the hair around Noctis’ face, his thumbs pressing into his temples.  Noctis brings his hands up, fingers curl around Prompto’s wrist, and the feel of bits of flesh between the leather of his gloves and bands feels like a touchstone.  Grounding.   
  
Noctis pulls back, barely, foreheads still pressing together and his eyes flutter open to look at Prompto’s.  And it’s right then that it hits him.  The absolutely terrifying realization that he loves him.  But there’s no chance for the thought to linger long as Prompto claims his mouth once more and presses him up against the door even harder.  Frantic, dizzying.  And suddenly everything feels on fire for a very different reason.  Suddenly his entire world, his entire being pinpoints down to nothing but Prompto.     
  
He whimpers at the loss of contact as Prompto breaks away slightly.  But it turns into a moan as Prompto’s mouth trails down his neck.  Prompto’s hand slides up his shirt, Noctis hisses in an inhale at the feel of his hands on the bare skin of his sides, over his ribcage and then down again.  It’s _different_ somehow, than the other times they’ve managed to find time to be together.  Desperation outweighing the tentativeness of before.  It’s _purposeful_ the way Prompto moves, the way he pushes on Noct’s hips as he sinks to his knees.  The way his hands make quick work of the buttons on Noctis’ pants, and then wrap around his achingly hard cock before taking him into his mouth.   
  
Noctis’ hips buck forward at the sudden feel of it.  His head falls back against the door as a moan escapes his lips.  “ _Prompto -_ ” he whines, hands moving to thread through Prompto’s hair.  A tug that is less than gentle as he feels Prompto’s tongue against the head of his cock.  Noctis is pretty sure he could die there.  Right then and there there and die happy.  There is nothing, absolutely _nothing_ in that moment but this.  Prompto’s mouth, the feel of his hair between his fingers, a world existing entirely in some empty train compartment inhabited by them and them alone.   
  
He lifts his head to look down at Prompto.  On his _knees_ with hollow cheeks as he bobs his head.  He’d thought of this - thought of how it would look, how it would _feel -_ those nights he let himself give into the thoughts about his friend that he knew he probably shouldn’t have.  But the reality of it is so much and it’s all he can do to even keep himself _upright_ .  His fingers tense in Prompto’s hair as he feels himself _quickly_ approaching the edge.  He fumbles for the words to tell Prompto, to say something, but it just comes out as some _noise_ somewhere between a whimper and a whine as he spills into Prompto’s mouth.     
  
He watches as Prompto stands and brings a thumb to wipe at the corner of his mouth.  Noctis can’t even _think_ straight - which was probably the plan he manages to figure out.  He slips an arm through the opening of Prompto’s vest and around his back, dragging him in closer and yeah maybe he’s using Prompto a little to steady himself.  He tilts his head up, meets Prompto’s lips and they manage to move back towards the bunk in the compartment without completely falling over.   
  
Prompto sinks to the bed, Noctis leans over him, hands still laced behind his neck, as he steps into him.  Prompto’s hands move to tug on his hips, urging him closer and Noctis brings his knees to the bed on either side of Prompto.  Their hips grind against the others, trying to find friction and purchase, little moans and sighs escaping between kisses.     
  
Prompto stills.  “Shit - wait, Noct -” he stutters.  “We’re slowing down,” he points out.   
  
Noctis lifts his head to look at Prompto.  “You want to slow down?” he asks, uncertain because really wasn’t it Prompto who sort of started this whole thing here.     
  
Prompto shakes his head.  “No, _we’re_ slowing down,” he clarifies.  “The train.”  The conductor crackles through the speakers, announcing their stop.  Noctis sighs heavily and lets his forehead fall to Prompto’s.  Frustration at the always present fact of not having enough _time_ pulls at him and is only Prompto kssing him - slow and deep - that quiets the thoughts.  “It’s okay,” Prompto says gently as they part, as though reading the inner turmoil.  “Ignis says the tomb is in the mines, probably with a legion of nasties between us and it,” Prompto starts, “you ready?”   
  
Noctis drops his head for a moment and then looks up at Prompto again, a tight smile on his lips.  “Am now,” he replies.  His thumb brushes against Prompto’s cheek and they’re quiet for a moment before another announcement breaks the moment.  Quickly they put themselves back together and when Noctis walks back to the car to meet back up with Ignis and Gladiolus, he walks a little taller.     
  


* * *

  


They’ve been sitting quiet for longer than Noctis can stand really.  But the Keep is a foreboding place and the sound of the MT’s roaming the halls is a constant.  Across the small room he can see the forms of Ignis and Gladio in their small bunks.  They’re asleep, or at least as close as any of them will get in this place.  Prompto sits beside him, their hands grip the edge of the bunk, pinkies pressing together.  He thinks that maybe Prompto’s waiting for him to break the silence and Noctis isn’t quite sure _how._  His mind wanders, to the barcode on Prompto’s wrist.  To his words from earlier: _I’m one of them._     
  
Noctis suddenly grabs Prompto’s hand and tugs at the bracelet around his wrist.  He bares the barcode, thumb brushing against the lines and numbers.  The black ink that marks Prompto as _someone else’s._  And he _hates_ it.  “Dammit, Prompto..” he hisses out and it’s bitter, terrible really and he doesn’t blame Prompto when he stiffens and quickly pulls his hand back.   
  
“You said it didn’t matter,” Prompto says, the hurt evident in his tone.   
  
“It doesn’t,” Noctis corrects quickly, a shake of his head.  “It doesn’t - I just -” he lets the thought linger.  He doesn’t need to _say_ it.  They both _know_ it.  What if Prompto had never found his way to Insomnia, what if instead of being the _person_ sitting there now he had ended up one of those _things_ in the halls outside.  The thought of it is enough to make Noctis feel sick.     
  
He reaches across the small space between him and Prompto and tugs at Prompto’s vest, which elicits a small _huh?_ of confusion from Prompto.  Noctis ignores it and sits back after he pulls out the black marker he knew Prompto kept tucked away in his pocket.  He takes Prompto’s hand once more, turns it over and above the barcode writes in his best penmanship _property of the crown city_ and his initials below.   _Mine,_ he thinks as he does so.   _Mine, mine,_ **_mine._ **   
  
“Noct…” Prompto says softly as he watches.     
  
Noctis drops the pen but keeps his other hand around Prompto’s wrist.  “By order of the King,” he says and looks up.  The bruises on his face and arms stand out, ugly splotches on pale skin, a sickening hue of green and purple in the flickering fluorescent lights.  Noctis gently runs his thumb under the mark below Prompto’s eye, even more gentle as he brushes over the bridge of his nose - undoubtedly broken by the angle the bone sits at now, but there’s nothing they can do right then.  His hand is shaking, he doesn’t care.  The gut wrenching, awful feeling of knowing how close _badly_ this could have ended.     
  
“I was so scared,” he admits softly, his voice cracking.  “Prompto I was so scared I’d lost you too.”  And he’s trying not to think about it, but it’s _there,_ a little voice in the back of his mind screaming: _what would you have done if you had._  The answer terrifies him. Rage runs hot through his blood just even thinking of it, a ledge he knows full well even Ignis would have been hard pressed to talk him down from had that been the case.     
  
“Hey -” Prompto starts, and he rests his hand on Noctis’ on his face, their fingers lacing together and he ducks his head a little to look at Noctis.  “Come on now,” he continues, a sort of forced lightness to his tone but his own fears of what just transpired come through, “you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Noctis holds his gaze, the _hope_ still there in Prompto’s eyes, even after everything.  Hope that they’ll find the crystal, get out of this damn place, put the world back the way it was supposed to be and Noctis wonders for the hundredth time how he can _always_ have that.  Hope.  Enough for himself and enough to keep Noctis going through the darkest moments of their journey.  “Prompto - I -” he starts, the words _right there_ on the tip of his tongue, but Prompto cuts him off and Noctis can’t do much but give in to the feel of Prompto’s lips on his own. 

His hand moves behind Prompto’s neck and he leans in, kissing him back fiercely.   _Mine,_ he thinks again.   _Mine._  Prompto responds, his arms moving around Noctis and he shifts in closer, all but sitting in his lap and the bed squeaks as he moves.  Noctis’ hand grips at the longer strands of hair behind Prompto’s neck, tugs and pulls as his tongue slips into Prompto’s mouth. Prompto’s hand inches closer up Noctis’ leg, and they both know they are quickly heading to a point they won’t be able to turn back from.

It’s Noctis that pulls away first, lips swollen and breathless.  “Shit, we should -” he swallows hard, his fingers still tangled in Prompto’s hair.  A reluctant tone to his words.  But Gladio and Ignis are barely five feet away and he knows they’re due to switch watch duty any minute now.  As much as he _wants_ to lose himself in Prompto right then, to keep reassuring himself that he’s _there_ , he knows they _can’t._     
  
Prompto nods, slides his lips against Noctis’.  Less frenzied, less desperate.  Chaste almost but with a promise of more.  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he replies.  And as if on cue they hear the buzz of Ignis’ alarm.  They pull apart, Prompto moving off of Noctis’ lap.  Their hands curl around the edge of the bed again and they share a look as Ignis stirs across the room.     
  
Gladio groans, shifts.  “You’re killing me, Iggy,” he says groggily.   
  
Ignis stands and touches a soft hand to Gladio’s shoulder on the top bunk.  “I’ve got it,” he assures the other man.  “Keep resting.”   
  
Gladio sighs heavily.  “No, it’s fine,” he replies.  “I’m up, kind of hard to sleep with those two making out over there,” he adds with a huff.  It’s a fake sort of gruffness to the words, a teasing edge to it and Ignis snickers.  Noctis feels his face burn and a quick glance to Prompto assures him the other is not much better off.  Gladio swings his legs over the side of the bunk and looks at them.  “When we get out of here you better be springing for two hotel rooms from now on, Noct,” he teases as he hops off the bunk.     
  
“Kiiiiiinda wishing I did die right about now,” Prompto says as he side glances to Noctis.  Ignis is the first to laugh, Gladio follows and Prompto and Noctis can’t help but join in.  It’s a small step, the moment lacks the carefree ease they once had, but it’s something.     
  
Ignis picks up the cane beside the bunk and moves to the chair between the beds.  He glances in the direction he heard Noctis and Prompto and smiles, warm and approving.  “You two would do well to get some rest too, we’ve still got a long ways to go.”   
  
Noctis and Prompto look at each other, almost a shy smile tugs at Noctis’ lips and he shrugs a little.  He moves to lay back in the small bunk and pulls at Prompto’s hand, urging him to lay back with him.  What was the point in pretending anymore.  They shift, the bed almost too small for the both of them, but they find a way to make it work nonetheless.  They’re a tangle of limbs, close enough that Noctis can feel Prompto’s heart beat, feel the warmth of his breath against his neck and it fills him with hope.  

 

* * *

 

  
Ten years.   _Ten years_ .  And Noctis swears he can see every one of them in Prompto’s face when he finally gets a moment to really _look_ .  The air in the caravan feels heavy, years of things unspoken laying between them.  He can see the apprehension in Prompto’s expression, as though he’s waiting for Noctis to dictate where their reunion now away from prying eyes is to go.  Noctis can feel his own nerves, a knot in his stomach as he thinks about the reality of it all.  Ten years was an awfully long time and knew a lot could change in that much time.   _Feelings_ could change in that much time.  And his voice shakes when he speaks, he feels so much older than he is but right then he feels like a kid again.  A kid with some silly little crush on his best friend that he has no idea _what to do about._     
  
“What’s this?” he tries to tease as his hand moves to touch at the facial hair on Prompto’s chin.     
  
Prompto laughs, and the little nervous edge to it reminds Noctis so much of the afternoon he walked in on him in this very same spot ten years ago.  He swats away Noctis’ hand gently and touches his own to the stubble on Noctis’ jaw.  “Could ask you the same,” he points out and their eyes meet.  Prompto makes no move to drop his hand, instead his thumb starts to rub gently against Noctis’ jawline.  Noctis takes that as all the hint he needs and steps in closer to Prompto.  Prompto’s other hand comes up to cup Noctis’ face as their lips meet.  A slow, tender kiss, and Noctis lets his arms wrap around Prompto’s back, pulling him in closer.    
  
“I missed you,” Prompto says, his voice cracking, as they pull apart.  “I missed you so damn much, Noct.”  He doesn’t give Noctis a chance to say anything in reply, his lips crashing against his with so much _need_ that it makes Noctis’ head spin.  Prompto moves forward, pushing Noctis back toward the bed.  It would easy, Noct knows, to lose himself to this.  To the desperate want with which Prompto kisses him, to the desperate want he feels himself.  But he _can’t_ .  Not until Prompto knows.     
  
“Wait.. wait..” he gets out as he pulls himself away from Prompto.  He hands his head in the space between them.  “Prompto… I need to tell you something,” he says as he looks up.  Prompto nods slowly, not missing the weight in Noctis’ voice.     
  
They move, sink to sit on the edge of the bed and Noctis is quiet as he tries to put what he needs to say into some semblance of order.  His fists curl against his legs and he watches as Prompto rests his hand on one.  Noctis uncurls his hand, lets his fingers lace with Prompto’s and like he had done so many times before draws on the strength he gave him.  “I’m not -” he stops, starts again, “when we go to the Citadel - I’m not - I’m not coming back,” he gets out, his gaze locked on their fingers laced together.     
  
“Well.. isn’t that kind of the point, take back what’s yours and all that” Prompto says, almost pleading, like he _knows_ what Noctis is trying to say and trying desperately to make it _not true._   
_  
_ “Prompto…” Noctis presses his lips together.  Prompto squeezes his hand, his eyes on Noctis even if he’s not looking up.  Ten years.  Had it really been _ten years_ that the words of Bahamut had weighed on him.  It felt like less and _more_ all at once.  He keeps his eyes downcast as he starts to speak again.  The words that had caused him more pain than he had once thought possible.  Words he had never spoken, until now.  “The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness, but the blood price must be paid. To cast out the Usurper and usher in dawn’s light will cost the life of the Chosen. Many sacrificed all for the King,” he pauses and looks up at Prompto,  “so must the King sacrifice himself for all.”

Prompto stiffens, breaks Noctis’ eye contact and before Noctis can even wrap his head around it Prompto’s hand is gone and he’s standing and nearly halfway across the small room.  His hands push into his hair, every muscle taut and tense with his back to Noctis and there’s a long, long, silence.  One that Noctis has no idea how to break. Prompto's hands move to the counter, knuckles white where he grips it.   
  
Noctis pushes himself off the edge of the bed and moves over to the other man.  “Prompto?” he says as he wraps his arms around him from behind.  Prompto stiffens for a moment and then relaxes into the embrace.  “Prompto say something,” he urges.   
  
“It was always going to hurt,” Prompto finally says after a moment, his voice low, cracking on the last of the words.  His hands move to rest on Noctis’ arms around him, head hung low.  

Noctis presses his face into Prompto’s back, inhaling the scent of the worn leather of his vest.  His chest tightens at the words, at the knowing that _this is it._ And he’s made his peace, for himself.  It’s the knowing that again and again he’s hurting the person he loved the most that gets to him.  That in the end, he was _always_ going to hurt Prompto.  “Still worth it?” he asks quietly, the words somewhat muffled by his face pressing into Prompto’s back.     
  
Prompto turns in Noctis’ embrace to face him.  “Always,” he replies as his hands move behind Noctis’ neck and he leans in to kiss him.  “Always,” he repeats as they pull apart just enough for him to get the word out, stumbling back toward the bed again.   
  
Noctis tries not to think about it - as they move together, as clothes are shed in the dim light of the caravan - about how Prompto’s movements are so much _more_ than the last time they had been together.  There’s a confidence there, a _knowing_ that speaks of experience.  And Noctis reminds himself as Prompto’s hands move over his body with such ease that it had been ten _years_ , and tries to silence the jealous thoughts that intrude.  

And it’s easy to let those thoughts go he finds.  As their lips trail over each other’s skin, as their hands roam, as he remembers what it’s like to find that blissful _peace_ of being lost fully and completely to Prompto and how it always manages to silence the world around them. It’s not lost on him that this is the most _intimate_ they had ever been, fully bare and for once not sneaking around or interrupted.  There’s a bittersweetness to it, that the first time they can truly be together would be their last.  His fingers run over little marks of raised skin, the little scars that litter Prompto’s body now.  Marking the differences between the then and the now. And even though they know time is still their enemy, for once they don’t feel _rushed._   
  
Prompto breaks their kiss, a hazy expression on his face with a loopy smile and he brushes his lips over Noct’s briefly.  He leans over the side of the bed and grabs his bag from where it had been dropped.  Holding it in one hand he uses his other to dig through the effects.    
  
There’s an item that catches Noctis’ eye and he reaches a hand to grab it.  “You still have this?” he asks as he lays back in the bed, his hand around Prompto’s wallet.  There’s a small smile on his face, touched that the item was still carried even after all this time.  His fingers run over the black leather, the insignia carved into the front.  The colours and symbols of Lucian royalty, and suddenly he’s sixteen again, agonizing for _weeks_ over the design and oh so nervous when he presents it to Prompto.  He remembers the tattered, barely holding together, canvas wallet that Prompto had had before, the little look of surprise when he gave this one to replace it.  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Prompto answers as he looks back at Noctis.  “That’s the first real present anyone ever gave me,” he adds as he lays back beside him.  

Noctis opens the wallet and tugs at the corner of a photo he sees peeking out from the fold. He smiles as he pulls it out, recognizing the moment instantly.  His head tucked into Prompto’s shoulder, smiles like they had the whole world at their feet and he remembers what it felt like in that moment to _think_ that.  They look impossibly young, and Noctis wishes for one more day just like that.     
  
“I know, I know…” Prompto says lightly, a grin on his face.  “I’m a sap, you can say it.”   
  
Noctis laughs softly.  “You’re a sap, Prompto,” he teases.  “I was so in love with you that night,” he says after a small pause, a wistful smile playing on his lips as he remembers it.  The way it felt to give in to his feelings, the way his head spun with the nearness of Prompto.  Infatuated with every word, with every move.  The kind of love that you don’t even realize is love until long after the fact and you remember how it _felt_ to feel like your body couldn’t contain all you felt.  “Giddy, a hundred miles a minute, idiotically in love with you,” he adds and lifts his gaze to Prompto.   
  
“And now?” Prompto asks, his hand on Noctis’ chest with his chin resting on it.     
  
Noctis slips the photo back into the wallet and drops it back into the bag.  He looks back at Prompto and there’s a moment where he thinks they could steal time.  That the world had survived in darkness for ten years, what would be a few more.  That he could be selfish, that he could be a _man_ and not a _King._  “Nothing’s changed.”   
  
Prompto grins.  “I love you too, Noct.”  He leans up and presses his lips to Noctis’.  

A slow, deliberate kiss that he deepens as his hand moves down Noctis’ torso, across the line of his hip and finally around his cock.  Noctis moans against his lips, a shudder runs through him at the touch and his fingers grip into the back of Prompto’s shoulders.  Prompto’s lips brush against Noctis’ jawline, over the stubble, down his neck.  His hand moves further between Noctis’ legs, cups his ass and then Prompto draws back, a questioning look in his eyes as his fingers tease at Noctis’ entrance.  A silent _is this okay_ .  Noctis nods, his mouth moves to brush along Prompto’s neck and he all but whines at the loss of contact when Prompto pulls his hand away.     
  
There’s a bit of shuffling but then Prompto’s sliding a lubed finger into Noctis - slow, testing and teasing all at once.  Prompto watches Noctis’ face as he starts to stroke, and then he adds a second finger.  “Still okay?” he asks, as he slips in a third finger after a while.   
  
“Yeah… yeah..” Noctis gets out around a moan.  But he wants _more_ , and his hand fumbles for Prompto’s cock between them, fingers stroking the length.  Prompto’s hand pulls out and Noctis’ watches as he slicks lube over his cock.  Prompto leans back over him, a hand moving to lace his fingers through Noctis’ and he brings their clasped hands to rest up on the pillow.  

There’s an apprehension between them, even if there’s a want there, and Prompto takes a moment to rest his forehead against Noctis’.  “Tell me if you need to stop,” he say and waits for Noctis’ affirming nod before he leans back up again.  His eyes are locked on Noctis’ face as his free hand reaches between them and slowly slides his cock into Noctis.  Noctis’ grip on Prompto’s hand tightens as he feels Prompto’s cock stretch him.  And it’s not exactly _painful,_ but there’s a moment of discomfort.  One that fades quickly as Prompto starts to thrust.  Slowly at first and he lets go of Noctis’ hand to wrap around his cock between them.  Noctis whimpers at the touch and his hips buck up into Prompto’s.     
  
It takes them a few moments, but they find their rhythm.   And it’s beyond anything that came before Noctis realizes quickly.  The feeling of being _with_ Prompto, it’s so much _more_ .  “Prompto…” he breathes out, a moan that is cut off by Prompto’s mouth on his.  Prompto’s hand works his cock as he thrusts, and Noctis can’t focus on anything but that.  The feel of Prompto in him, the absolute pleasure of coming undone in tandem.     
  
Noctis is the first to come, spilling out over Prompto’s hand and his stomach, a ragged gasp of a breath, but Prompto isn’t far behind.  His weight falls onto Noctis as the aftershocks of pleasure run electric under his skin.  They’re silent save for hitched breaths, and Noctis’ lets his hands run along Prompto’s back, goosebumps trailing behind the touch.  The inevitable end still weighs on Noctis’ mind.  A sinking feeling that even this can’t touch.  But he knows, he _knows_ , that when that end comes, it will be this moment he thinks of.  The sound of Prompto’s breath, ragged and wrecked, the feel of so much skin on skin.  The way it felt during those handful of perfect moments to feel like his life was his own.

  


* * *

  


The dawn breaks.  He’s knee deep in daemon’s and he can feel the blood running into his eyes from a rather large gash on his forehead.  His body feels bruised all over, broken, but still he fights.  Beside him Iggy and Gladio are in just as rough shape, and still they fight.  But the dawn breaks.  A peek of light between buildings gone missing.   _Light._  And as the daemons vanish Prompto lifts his chin up and turns his face to the light.   _Warmth._ And that which none of them have seen in a decade. The sunrise. 

“It is over,” Ignis states and a heavy silence settles between them.   
  
It’s bittersweet.  The sunrise and the warmth it brings.  But a coldness of another kind settles into Prompto’s bones as the first rays touch his skin.  It is over.  They all know what that means and even as the world finally awakens from a decade of slumber they feel the loss heavy.  Gladio turns to the direction of the Citadel, presses a fist to his heart.  Ignis follows.  Prompto closes his eyes against the sun, spots flicker behind his lids and he feels the warm burn of tears.  He turns, places an open palm against his heart and looks up toward the Citadel.  In unison the three men bow.  

It is over.  
  
His second sunrise is alone.  Soon there will be more to do than he can even fathom right then.  The kingdom was saved but left without a King and without an heir.  The people would look to the Crownsguard, to the King’s closest friends for guidance of where to go now.  There would be a funeral.  Some public display that he already dreads.  He would have to do what Noctis wanted.  Walk tall.  But this?  This moment as the sun breaks the horizon for a second day in a row.  This was _his_ .  His moment of privacy before his grief would become part of his duty and no longer just his.  A moment when he didn’t have to walk tall, when he could stumble.  When he could _ache_ with the loss of Noctis.  When he can grieve all that Noctis had been to him.  

His legs dangle over the edge of the roof he’d snuck up to.  The world feels new somehow for all of them.  But it’s not right, and he knows it never will be.  That if ten years hadn’t been enough to dull the ache of missing Noctis then no amount of time would be.  He tugs out his wallet, flips it open and pulls out the photo inside.  The one they took that night in Lestallum, when the weight of the world had pressed on them but had not yet broken them.  When smiles were real, when everything felt new and exciting.  When for a brief moment they were themselves.  Noctis’ face stares up at him and he traces his features with a finger.  They look young, younger than they had ever thought they were back then.  But Prompto figures that’s what nostalgia does.  
  
_“What are you doing?” he asked as Noctis took a pen to the back of the photo. His lanky form was sprawled out on the bed still and he turned to his side to look at Noctis at the table.  It still seemed surreal somehow, the features that had aged while none of them had seen.  He had watched it slowly on his own face, and those of Ignis and Gladio.  But Noct - Noct had shown up ten years past and there was a sharp ache in Prompto that he had_ **_missed_ ** _it._   
  
_Noctis smiled, soft and not nearly as unguarded as he might have years ago, but a smile nonetheless.  He waited until he finished writing and looked over at Prompto as he tucked the photo back into his wallet.  A waver in his voice when he spoke.  Goodbye without saying the word.  “When it’s over, then you’ll know.”_   
  
_He pushed himself up from the table and Prompto watched as he walked back toward the bed. Prompto grabbed his hand and pulled him down.  They had to go soon, they both knew it. Their moment was almost over, but Prompto intended on making use of every last second of it._   
_  
_ Prompto turns the photo over.  He looks at Noct’s writing, taking in the shape and lines of the letters without actually reading them yet. The same lines and shapes that once marked his wrist in a desperate moment in a desperate place, lines and shapes that marked him Noctis’ long after he had handed his heart over.  He blinks rapidly against the tears in his eyes and has to swallow hard against the lump as he finally reads Noctis’ words.  

 

     _That night on the roof..._

_What I wanted to say, what I should have said:_   
_You’re not nothing._ _  
_ _You’re_ _everything_ . 

  


* * *

 

So you can keep me  
Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans  
Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet  
You won't ever be alone _  
_ **_wait for me to come home_ **

 

Prompto stirs, the feel of a scratchy pillow case against his face. He sits up, swings his legs over the side of the bed and looks around. He's in a caravan, Hammerhead he thinks. His rakes a hand through his hair and yawns. His boots are on the floor beside the bed and he sinks his feet into them.

He pushes himself off the bed. A stretch as he moves through the caravan to the door. The sun is bright, blinding even as he hops down the steps. And there, backlit by the sun is Noctis, leaning against the side of the Regalia.  Prompto walks up to him and he takes in Noctis’ features.  Young like they had been once, before the world had fallen apart at their feet.  His hair in its ever constant mess, locks dropping into his eyes.  Eyes that were clear and bright, unburdened by the way their story had ended.  
  
“Morning,” Noctis says lightly, like he had done so many times on their journey.     
  
Prompto _knows_ what’s happened, he knows, but his mind is having trouble catching up somehow.  Putting the pieces into the proper order and it feels hazy, but he knows it’s a haze that will shortly lift.  His brow furrows.  “Are we - is this -” he starts, but then he realizes it doesn’t _matter._  All that matters was that Noct was _there._   _They_ were there.

He grins and loops his arms around Noctis’ waist.  Noctis’ hands move to cup his face as their foreheads fall lightly against each others.  They’re quiet for a long moment, and it’s the stillest Prompto has ever been.  He thinks that maybe there's things he _should_ say. That he walked tall, that they restored the kingdom Noctis had laid his life down for. That he kept that picture with Noctis’ words in his pocket to the very end.  That there hadn't been a single second of a single day that he hadn't _missed_ him. 

But he doesn't say any of that. Because for once they have that which was stolen from them. _Time._ And there’s a reverence to the moment, in the quiet.  Prompto doesn't want to break that.  Noctis’ hands are warm against his face, like the sun against his back.  Eyes are half closed as they breathe the other in.  As they remember what it was like, to be _this close_ .     
  
Prompto grins, pulls back a little and raises a brow.  “So… where we going?” he asks.   
  
Noctis moves to the passenger side and throws the keys to Prompto.  He grins back as Prompto catches them.  “Anywhere we want,” he answers and Prompto feels his chest tighten. He thinks back to that night in Lestallum.   _What would you do._  His hands curl around the keys and he slips them into the ignition. His head leans back as he feels the sun on his face, the soft breeze. The sound of a car that drives by, birds in the distance. It's _perfect._

He starts the car after a moment and looks at Noctis with a grin. “Let's go -” he starts and then pulls his camera out. “But first… it's picture time…”

 

**_oh take me back to the start..._ **


End file.
